Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Burundi and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing The Searchers to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Infiniti. All the underground hits.
All Cecil Taylor tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Television Personalities record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Gang Dance,
Oblivians,
X-102,
Sandy B,
Suburban Knight,
The Move,
Surgeon,
Soul Sonic Force,
Camberwell Now,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Loose Ends,
Cal Tjader,
Gong,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Ponytail,
Talk Talk,
Das Ding,
Con Funk Shun,
Gabor Szabo,
The Fire Engines,
Bang On A Can,
ABC,
The Residents,
Steve Hackett,
Gang Starr,
Slave,
Malaria!,
Crash Course in Science,
These Immortal Souls,
Urselle,
Junior Murvin,
Maurizio,
Vladislav Delay,
Johnny Clarke,
Minnie Riperton,
KRS-One,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Goldenarms,
X-Ray Spex,
DJ Sneak,
Mandrill,
Radiohead,
Pierre Henry,
Buzzcocks,
Faust,
Lakeside,
Joyce Sims,
Flash Fearless,
Henry Cow,
Youth Brigade,
Radiopuhelimet,
Mo-Dettes,
Johnny Osbourne,
Model 500,
Audionom,
Hot Snakes,
The Star Department,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Ultra Naté,
Peter and Kerry,
Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.